


A Queen that Cares

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Cheesy title, F/F, Femslash, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship, Rule 63 ALL the characters, Thorinduil - Freeform, fem!Legolas, fem!Thorin, fem!Thorinduil, fem!Thranduil, femThorinduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 10:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is forced to face the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Queen that Cares

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Thorinduil fic, so constructive criticism would be great.

She can feel the eyes of the dwarf woman on her, judging her. The question hangs in the air: Why is she here? Why was Thorin not brought to her? Her daughter and Tauriel would've gladly gotten her for her. But Thranduil has lowered herself to come to Thorin's cell. It is quite comfortable if she does say so herself; she knows that prisoners still need to be given some respect.

"What have you come for?" Thorin asks. Even if she has so many other questions, that is the one that they both know matters most. Thranduil wouldn't come here without some sort of reason.

She turns her head away from Thorin, but she still feels Thorin glare on her. "I came to ask you of something."

Thorin snorts. "Then it must be very important, your highness."

Thorin, the Thorin from before Smaug, never would've snorted at her. She had been a beautiful, respectable dwarf princess waiting for the day that she inherited Erebor. She just hadn't known that she would also inherit the responsibility of taking it back from a dragon.

"Why do you think that I have not suffered?"

She looks at Thorin from the corner of her eye and watches her expression change. Thranduil can't quite read it, and it changes every few seconds.

"I know of the struggles of your people." Thranduil turns back to fully face Thorin. Still, the woman's face is unreadable. "Are you selfish enough to believe that you are the only one who has ever suffered? I know that your pain is great, but you have rebuilt a life. I have heard that Ered Lindon is prosperous."

"But it is not my peoples' true land!" Thorin defends. She stands up from her bed. The height difference alone makes Thranduil not fear the woman in the slightest, but the added fact that the woman is her prisoner reminds her that any point she makes is invalid.

"You're right, but sometimes you have to do with what you have." Thranduil sighed. "What does it matter? You wouldn't understand."

Thorin scowls. "Wouldn't understand? Why you filthy, tree shagging elf-"

Thranduil cuts her off. "Every day more and more of my people fight off spiders to head west to the Undying Lands. Middle Earth is no longer the land they wish to reside in."

Thorin snorts again. "And why should that matter to you? What does that even have to do with what you asked earlier?"

"The Necromancer," Thranduil says, "is after my land, and almost has won all of it. There is a reason that we are no longer Mirkwood." She chuckles, but it is a bitter sound. "I am becoming more like you every day."

"Don't you dare compare us!"

"Thorin," Thranduil says. She looks into the face of the woman, the woman who has changed over time. She looks older, has more streaks of grey in her hair, wrinkles on her face. Thranduil has not changed in over a century. "Thorin, I can barely hold off the Necromancer." Back when Erebor had belonged to the dwarves, Thorin had been responsible enough to handle a kingdom. "How do you expect to slay a dragon? I have seen your allies. They are not dragon slayers."

"And how do you know?" Thorin's eyes hold challenge. "We have made it this far."

"You can go far and still never reach your goal." It is tiring, so tiring, holding off the darkness of Mirkwood alone. "All you will do is tire yourself out." She looks over Thorin. "I was not going to let my people to die to fight the unstoppable. I know you think me heartless, but heartless would be to end the lives of my people and yours. If you and your people had gone back to fight the drake then you and your people, at least most of them, would have died."

And Thorin's expression remains the same cold hard stare that it's been for most of the conversation. No longer does the exiled dwarf queen try to decide just what to expression to bear. She is as stubborn as her. "Why did you at least not send supplies?"

"Because," Thranduil said, "you would have refused." Now she simply has to accept them or die. Thorin makes no response, so the queen leaves.

Sometimes she wonders why she cares. Perhaps it is because she remembers the friendship that they once held. Other times she believes that it is because she wants her friend to live on. At least here she is fed and away from a dragon's wrath. And maybe it has to also do with that feeling inside of her, that feeling that she can't quite describe, though she wouldn't mark that as the only reason.

She doesn't know why she cares. All she knows is that she does.


End file.
